


Stress Relief

by pheaker



Category: Nowhere Boy (2009), The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Light Angst, M/M, Smut, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-06 18:37:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19068358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pheaker/pseuds/pheaker
Summary: Paul has a different way to help John relieve his stress.Thomas Brodie-Sangster as Paul McCartney and Aaron Taylor-Johnson as John Lennon (as seen in the movie Nowhere Boy).





	Stress Relief

John collapsed down onto his bed as soon as he got home. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed aloud, thinking about his day.

 

Firstly, there was a rumour going around about him. About him, being queer. Queer! Out of all the things! He wouldn’t consider himself queer, as he didn’t like guys, well, like that - he liked girls. He _loved_ girls. Maybe there was one boy who sparked an interest in John, Paul McCartney, younger than him by two years, _amazing_ guitarist. John wonders what else he could do with those _skilled_ fingers-

 

Nope. Not queer. At all.

 

But Paul was beautiful. He really was - John wanted to kiss those plump lips of his, those perfect lips; he wanted to pull his silky hair roughly and make him moan (he was certainly not queer in any way), wanted him _completely for himself._ John could probably look into his eyes forever, get lost in them, _drown_ in them - his eyes were soft and kind, never cold, never calculating.

 

Soft, and kind. John loved that.

 

It was different. It was different having someone look right into his eyes with such kindness and respect - Paul could calm him just by looking at him with _those_ eyes. They weren’t just different in general, they were a beautiful contrast from looking into other people’s eyes. Mimi’s eyes were judging, albeit loving, and almost always calculating, like she was trying to make sense of his every action.

 

Paul’s eyes told a story of pain, of sorrow, and of _love,_ that was John’s favourite thing about them. They were _loving._ He was loving.

 

And secondly, he had tried writing songs multiple times today, but couldn’t. Everything he wrote down ended up scribbled over messily, he hadn’t struggled with writing in so long. Every line he wrote seemed forced and not enough, ranging from single words just _not fitting_ and entire verses just badly written, (like, seriously, why did every line make him want to crumple up the paper and throw it?) John hated it.

 

And he wasn’t allowed around his mother’s house anymore. What crap! Mimi had really done it this time. John couldn’t really explain the anger he was feeling - it felt like his chest was aching and he was _furiously_ trying to make it go away, blaming everything on Mimi. It was her fault. He had felt happy at his mother’s house, in his mother’s presence, just _with_ his mother - but that was all gone.

 

_Fuck._

 

He didn’t realise his hands were shaking until he went to rub his eyes - he sighed once more and clasped them together tightly when he saw how badly they were trembling. He lay down. His thoughts were all mixing together and crashing against one another, creating an almost unbearable swarm in his head - his head started to hurt, a pounding feeling filling his skull. It felt like too much. Was it too much? It really felt like it.

 

The pounding was worsening constantly, becoming louder (as it seemed) and more frequent. He groaned and put his hands on his head, hoping to lessen or make the pain go away, but it didn’t work - the pounding carried on.

 

There was a knock on his door.

 

John groaned again, drawn out, “Go away, Mimi,” He said loudly, hoping that she would just leave him alone, but then came another knock.

 

“John, It’s me. It’s Paul. Can I come in?” John heard. Paul? Why was he here?

 

John wanted to see Paul. Maybe he could help him get rid of the headache that was starting to really hurt now, making his vision go blurry and clouded. “Fine.” He grumbled softly in response to what Paul had said, instantly regretting speaking - _more pounding._

 

The door opened, and Paul stepped in, closing the door behind him. “Are you okay?” He immediately asked, sitting down on the end of the bed, by John’s legs, which were stretched out. John nodded lightly and then shook his head after a few seconds, ultimately deciding no hiding the obvious from Paul.

 

“Jus’ a headache, ‘s all.” He replied, bringing his legs closer to his chest, curling up, in a sense, so that Paul had more room on the bed, too. The younger sighed and moved John’s hands away from his head, replacing them with his own hands, which where much warmer and more comforting.

 

“Your hands feel nice. All warm,” John said, smiling softly as his headache subsided slightly, becoming more bearable as Paul kept his hands there, rubbing gently.

 

Paul laughed softly, “So I’ve been told. Is this helping?” He hoped that he was helping John feel better, he really didn't deserve a headache this bad - really, John didn't deserve to feel all the pain he had and continues to feel.

 

"Yes, it is," He smiled, "You're so warm," John whined lightly, drawing out the 'a' in warm longer than he should have, silently wishing for Paul to move closer to him. _Beautiful_ Paul. _Gorgeous_ Paul. Paul with those perfect hips, that _perfect_ everything.

 

"John," Paul's tone became concerned, "You're staring."

 

John blushed softly and muttered a quick apology. He sat up abruptly, a sudden urge to feel Paul closer to him washed over him and he hugged the younger close, breathing in his scent deeply - he wanted more. He wanted Paul.

 

“John?” Paul asked softly, wrapping his arms around John’s body and allowing him to pull him closer, almost on John’s lap.

 

“I’m sorry,” John chuckled, “The last few days have been stressful. I needed a hug,” He tightened his arms around Paul again. Paul nodded and slowly shifted into John’s lap, creating a more comfortable position for the two to hug, John’s arms around him and Paul’s head against his neck.

 

“It’s fine. This is nice,” Paul shifted again, “Sorry.”

 

A silence fell upon the two. Not an uncomfortable silence, a silence that created a barrier between them and the rest of the world, like it was _just them,_ and they could do whatever they wanted in this new world of theirs. Everything had suddenly disappeared and all they could focus on was one another, one another’s breathing, one another’s skin against each other.

 

“Stressed, huh?” Paul broke the silence by mumbling this against John’s neck, who hummed in response. John could practically feel Paul smirking against his neck, and he found himself confused yet thrilled - what was he thinking? Did he know what John was thinking? Hopefully not.

 

Paul was sat on his lap, he realised, and his arse was right against his dick-

 

 _Don’t think about that_ , John thought to himself, mentally cursing himself for thinking such _queer_ thoughts!

 

“Maybe I can help with that,” Paul spoke with a different tone now, one which he only heard birds use when trying to seduce him, “I have a method, to help relieve stress.”

 

“Yeah, and what’s that?” John asked in response, a playful element to his voice as he stared into Paul’s gaze intensely, as Paul had moved his head to look at him. The younger smirked lightly, once more, and started to slide between John’s legs, on his knees.

 

And _fuck,_ Paul looked amazing on his knees, gazing up at him with curious and uncertain eyes. Those same eyes were now looking down at his crotch, at his dick which was slowly creating a tent in his jeans the more John looked down at Paul between his legs.

 

Paul suddenly unbuckled John’s jeans and pulled them down his legs in seemingly one motion, looking eager and desperate as he pulled John’s boxers down too.

 

John’s now full erection sprung free, and Paul looked up at him (for permission, John assumed, but didn’t it seem obvious he was more than okay with this?) - John merely nodded, a blush creeping up his neck the more the younger looked at him. John didn’t know exactly what Paul was going to do as he had no idea whether he had experience with sucking dick or not, but this added an element of surprise to what he was about to do - John would ask about that later.

 

Paul wrapped his lips around the tip of John’s dick, sucking softly, before he wrapped his hand around his dick and began jerking him off.

 

John moaned and thread his hands through Paul’s hair, desperate to feel his lips again, to feel the warmth and wetness of _those lips on his cock,_ sucking him hard and skillfully.

 

Paul’s hand retreated, and John whined. His hands were still in Paul’s hair, and so he pulled his hair harshly, making the younger moan out sinfully - what a lovely sound. John pulled again before guiding Paul’s head down to his dick so he could _actually get on with it,_ and his wish was finally granted. The same lips wrapped around his dick again, but this time, more of it at once - taking his whole cock in his mouth.

 

John threw his head back and moaned again, feeling Paul bobbing his head up and down on his dick, swirling his tongue around the tip and occasionally pushing against the slit. John looked down to watch Paul, he looked fucking delicious like this, such a _slut_ for him.

 

Paul continued to swirl his tongue and bob his head and push against him and _hum against him_ and-

 

John came suddenly, without warning, into Paul’s mouth. He expected Paul to choke or spit out the come, but instead, he swallowed it all, some of it dripping down his chin from those stretched out and raw lips. He soon found out that Paul had come too, just from giving him a blowjob.

 

All his stress was gone as they lay together in bed, just the two of them.

 

Nobody else.

 

-

 

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